Utopia
by italiansupermarkets
Summary: Two characters in various stages of their relationship. Drabbles and one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

AN: My brain somehow gave birth to this while listening to "You are the Ocean" by Phantogram and "Shangri-La" by Yacht. Give these songs a listen if you have a chance because they're great.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon.

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><p>"Here's your food," he said simply. Handing her a container that was still warm, he eyed her vaguely, wearily, indifferently; she was different and fresh and exciting and he knew—he <em>knew<em>—that she wasn't just anyone. She was _someone_ and he relished the thought.

As he eyed her person—her hair, lips, mouth, eyes, _breasts_—she eyed her food and he could see the physical hunger in the hollows of her cheeks and frailty of her hands. A sudden inexplicable desire to touch her ran through his veins. He took a moment to tightly shut his eyes and inhale, exhale. Breathe. Breathe.

When he opened them again, she was no longer staring at the food, but at him. "Are you alright?" she asked, trying to sound concerned even though they both knew she wasn't.

"Yeah. Just a long day, you know?" He internally cringed at the general lameness of his response.

Nodding in understanding, she pulled the food towards her and opened the take-away box. "Do you have a fork?"

He turned and grabbed one from the counter and handed it to her, his heart and mind and arousal doing back flips. "I thought you were bringing this back home?" he inquired as he handed over the utensil.

A shrug. "I changed my mind." She looked smug.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were smirking."

"If I didn't know _you_ better, I'd say you were flirting."

He almost choked on his own surprise. She hid a smile as she bit into her food.

After he recovered, he leaned into the counter and watched her eat. It was like listening to soft-core porn with all the noises she was making. Every several bites she let out a moan or a sigh and he felt himself strain within the confines of his pants.

"Do you not have time to eat at home?" he inquired.

Swallowing, she nodded. "No, not really. Sometimes I forget, too." She took another bite. "And I'm poor."

He laughed at her sudden joke and was surprised to find that she chuckled along with him. There was a dimple on her left cheek.

She finished her food in record time and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm done now." Blunt.

"I can see that." Nervous.

She dragged herself off the stool and smoothed out her sweater. "Thanks."

"No problem." And for once, he actually meant it.

As she turned to go, he discovered that he didn't want her to. _Don't leave_. He couldn't bring himself to say the words because he was scared. She left and he didn't say goodbye.

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><p>Later as he went to clean up some tables, he saw it. A backpack lying on the ground by her stool. <em>Did she leave it on purpose?<em> He shoved aside those thoughts because he knew they were dangerous and because she probably did. The implications of what that meant were too much for him, so he didn't dwell on it.

When his shift was finally over, he quickly took off his apron and hung it up on a hook in the kitchen, a giddy feeling bubbling up in his chest. He wanted to see her. A lot. While this fact wasn't a shock to him, admitting it was, so he again just shoved it to the back of his mind and didn't think. _Don't think or you could get hurt._

After quickly saying his goodbye's to Yolanda (she barely even looked up and just grunted in response), he grabbed the backpack and dashed out of the Inn and made his way to Angela's house, trying not to run.

Her house seemingly materialized in front of him and he realized that he was scared. What would he say to her? What if she invited him in? What if she shut the door in his face? What if someone _else_ was in there? What if she kissed him?

_God, I hope she does._

This last thought gave him pause and broke his resolve. He almost turned around, but mustered up every ounce of courage and knocked on her door.

He heard a clattering inside and several expletives. "Just a minute!" she yelled. "_Ow_. What the fu—"

When she opened the door, her short hair was a mess and all she was wearing was an over-sized T-shirt and socks and she was immaculate.

"Chase! Hi," she said and didn't look the least bit surprised to see him. His gaze briefly traveled down to her chest and he could see her nipples harden in response to the cold night air.

_No bra._

In a moment of stupidity, he blinked and stuck her backpack right into her face. "You left this." He thanked the cosmos that it was dark so she couldn't see his blush.

Grabbing in from him, she simply said, "Oh."

"Yeah."

"So."

"You look nice."

"Right back at you."

"Uh…"

"Want to come inside?" She opened the door a bit wider and stepped back.

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_. "Yes."

He walked in and looked around the small space. There was a small kitchen counter with a cutting board and frying pan, a fridge, a kitchen table with two chairs, an unmade bed, and a small couch on large, soft-looking throw rug in front of a fireplace. Cozy.

"Do you need anything to drink?" she asked as she rummaged through her fridge. The backs of her thighs looked amazing.

He coughed and shook his head. "No." His voice came out a little high-pitched.

After she closed the fridge, she dragged her feet over to her couch and plopped down, gesturing for him to sit next to her. He hesitated and she gave him a look. "Well?"

"Okay," he muttered and sat down beside her. They both sat for a minute staring into the fire, neither wanting to speak first.

"So," she started, being the braver of the two. "How… how are… you." She groaned slightly. "Sorry, that was lame."

He chuckled, feeling a little bit more comfortable. "I'm peachy."

In response, she just smiled and it oozed sin and mischief. She slowly brought her legs up onto his lap and leaned back against the couch's armrest. "Tell me something about yourself." Her foot rubbed slowly against his upper thigh.

He nearly had a heart palpitation.

"Uh… There's not much to tell," he said, staring straightforward and trying not to think of what she was doing.

A scoff. "Yeah right. Tell me about… cooking. Why are you a cook? Isn't it a little boring working in the Inn? Hardly anyone comes in."

He just shrugged. "Cooking is just what I do. I like it and it makes me feel good about myself."

"You're good at it. That tomato risotto you gave me for lunch was heavenly."

_You're heavenly._

"Thanks," he choked out.

There was another pause in which his gaze drifted down to his lap to watch her foot brush against him. He tried not to groan.

"Well," she said finally, "I need to get to bed. It's kind of late."

He nodded and tried to stifle the disappointment that rose up in his chest and throat as she swung her legs off him and stood up. Following her example, he got up as well and went to the front door.

She opened it for him and he ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to leave.

"I'll be seeing you, then," he said and went to step through the door, but her arm grabbed his sleeve and held on.

He turned around and looked into her eyes. They were open and honest; his breath caught in his throat and something passed between them: a mutual understanding of sorts. His lips tingled to kiss her and her eyes held raw desire, but neither made a move and it was alright.

"Bye," she stated. He smiled and brushed some hair behind her ears.

"Bye," he echoed.

Then he left and didn't hear her close the door until he was far down the path leading to her house.

A smile danced across his mouth.

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><p>AN: I've major writer's block (among other things) for months, so I'm really not sure where this came from, but here it is. It's short and not as good as I wish it was but at least it's something. Also, sorry if there are any typos that I didn't catch.<p>

Leave a review if you want, or don't (but I hope you do). Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This one's AU.

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><p>"I'll have one coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream," was the first thing she said to him. Her hair was in a state of disarray from the winds outside, and she was trying desperately to smooth it down and tuck it behind her ears. It was winter and she was dressed appropriately; she wore an old sweater, black pants, boots, a heavy overcoat, and a long, colorful scarf that wrapped around her neck several times and still managed to hang almost to the floor. Her nose was bright red and she was rubbing her hands together to warm them up. "Great weather, huh?" she said as she rang him up. A tiny smirk pulled at the corners of her chapped lips.<p>

He shrugged, not quite sure what to say. Most people didn't talk to him after they had ordered. "Kind of cold," he muttered, trying not to give the girl too much thought.

She chuckled. "Just a little."

"That'll be $3.24. Cash, debit, or credit?" he rattled off mechanically.

"Cash," she said as she fished through her wallet. "Here you go." With a smile, she handed him a five dollar bill.

Doing his best to keep from touching her fingers as he grabbed the money, he grunted out a "Thank you." The cash register buzzed and chirped before reading off her change. "Here's $1.76." She pocketed the money. "What's your name?"

"What?"

"It's for the coffee… so we can say your name when it's done," he stuttered out, a little embarrassed. To hide this, he sneered slightly. _God, I hate people._

Understanding passed across her features. "Oh! Right. It's Angela."

"Okay, Angela, thank you. Wait at the end of the counter; your drink will be ready soon," he dismissed, trying not to seem friendly. She was just a customer.

She smiled. "Alright. Thanks," she said before scooting down to the end of the counter.

Without another thought, he continued ringing up customers like he was supposed to. It was just a job; he wasn't required to be nice or friendly. He would never see any of these people again, anyway.

These thoughts repeated in his head, and he tried not to watch when Angela finally left the shop.

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><p>The second instance he met her was a little under two weeks later. It killed him that he could remember how long it had been. <em>Just a customer, just a customer.<em>

"Hello again," Angela said. Today she was wearing a variation on her previous outfit: boots, pants, different sweater, different jacket, same scarf, and a knit hat. Cute. Her face wasn't as red as it had been before; maybe she had had a cold? It was flu season, so he wouldn't hold it past her if she—

_Stop it._

Pretending not to remember her, he gave her a once-over and sniffed indignantly. "Hello. Can I help you?"

If she was offended by his seeming lack of remembrance of her, she didn't say anything. "I'll have a coffee."

He resisted the urge to smile, instead opting for a bored expression. "Any specific kind? Or do you just want generic coffee?"

"Black with no milk or sugar," Angela said patiently.

He rang her up, she gave him a five dollar bill, he gave her the change. Same thing. Everything was always the same. A customer was a customer and a person was a person.

She probably didn't even remember him.

"Name?" he muttered, a scowl pulling at his mouth.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Chase's head snapped up and his face showed his surprise. "What?" he said stupidly. _This is new._

"You heard me," she answered, amused. "I'll tell you my name, which we both know I don't need to," she said pointedly, making him wince, "if you tell me yours."

She knew. She could see right through him. Nervously, his eyes darted around the shop to see if there were very many people about, but there were hardly any. "Why… do you want my name?" he asked, suspicious. _And nervous._

Angela looked at him, but didn't say anything.

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down. His palms were sweaty. "I don't think…" he started, making one final attempt ditch attempt at keeping his name from her. But even see that he was going nowhere and let out a sigh, a headache pounding under his brow. "Chase."

Her expression cleared and she smiled at him and it warmed his body. "That's a nice name." And with that, she walked to the end of the counter to wait for her coffee. After blinking several times in confusion, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and wiped his palms on the leg of his pants.

When her drink came, she took it and left, shooting him one last glance.

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><p>She visited him again three days later. When she walked into the shop, he tried to squelch the feelings that arose from seeing her. <em>Excitement. Longing. Curiosity.<em>

Hope.

The last one was the most dangerous, so he beat it into the back of his mind and tried not to think of it.

"Hello, Chase!" she said merrily as she glided to the counter. She leaned forward and he scooted back. "The usual, please."

Briefly, he entertained the idea of pretending he had no idea who she was or what she was talking about, but he knew that it would be stupid to do so.

After they'd gone through the cash register routine, she lingered at the counter. "So," she began, drawing out the word, "how long have you been working here?"

His eyebrows furrowed together. "Why?"

"I'm interested."

His jaw clenched at the implications of that statement. "Almost a year," he said after a pause, not making eye contact and scrubbing at an invisible stain on the counter.

Before she could answer, the bell on the door to the shop rang, signaling a new customer. _Thank God._ She would have to finish up her chat with him, which meant he was saved from carrying out a conversation.

"That's a long time," she mused. "Do you ever have breaks?"

His heart pounded in his ribcage. "No," he answered without a thought. "Now if you please…?" He gestured to the end of the counter where her drink was waiting.

An entertained expression crossed her face, and as she was leaving, she had the audacity to send him a wink.

Shit.

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><p>The next time he saw her wasn't for another month. Every day he would watch the door, waiting for her to come prancing in with her sweaters and coats and long scarf. It made him angry; all these walls that he had built up… she had broken through after only talking to him three times. <em>Three goddamned times.<em>

The longer he waited for her to visit him, the more confused he became. She had said she was interested! Why wouldn't she come see him? Was she just playing with him? _What a tease_. He was bitter and upset.

And lonely.

The Christmas holidays passed. He spent them alone in his apartment with several bottles of cheap champagne, making sure to watch all the Christmas specials on TV. Alone. Sometimes he would speak to himself, just to see what it was like. It was depressing.

Then it was New Year's. After watching the ball drop on his television, he drank himself into an inebriated daze before passing out on the couch. The next morning he had a splitting headache and a fuzzy mouth and a sad heart.

He took several pills and drank several glasses of water and two cups of coffee before he felt well enough to drag himself to work. _I need a raise._

Several customers whined and complained at his lack of efficiency, courtesy, and overall bad attitude, but he ignored them. The idiots. They were all so _stupid_ and vacant. To them, he wasn't a person but a machine programmed to give them what they wanted. He hated them. He wanted them to just leave him alone. He didn't need anybody but himself.

_What a lie._

The morning rush died down after an hour or two, and the coffee shop was nice and empty. He leaned into the counter and placed his head in his hands, groaning softly. The door opened and a customer walked in, but he didn't bother to look up.

"I'll have one coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream."

It was her. His eyes widened and his stomach flip-flopped, but he didn't look up. Not yet. His heart wouldn't be able to take it. There was a pause, before he finally had the courage to speak. "What took you so long?" his murmured, his voice sounding hoarse and broken even in his own ears. "I've been… I thought…" He looked up now and hoped that she wouldn't be able to see the hurt reflected in his face.

Her hair was shorter, he noticed absentmindedly, and she had dark circles around her eyes that matched his own. "I'm sorry. I've been busy," she said simply, her expression unusually reserved. _Unusual? How would you know?_

"Too busy to stop in for five minutes?"

Ah. There we go. He could hear the pain in his voice and so could she. Her expression softened. "I'm sorry. I've been dealing with some job issues and I couldn't…" she trailed off, fiddling with her scarf.

Swallowing hard, he shook his head. "It's fine. I don't care." The lie surprised even himself and he was sure she wouldn't believe it.

"Chase, I—"

"I don't care," he interrupted, repeating himself more firmly. His face schooled itself into a mask of indifference. "Cash, debit, or credit?"

For a second, she looked hurt, but he blinked and it was gone. "Actually, forget the coffee. I'll be going."

She left and he resisted the urge to call out to her.

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><p>Three months, two weeks, and four days. That was how long it was until he saw her again. His life had slipped back into its boring monotony after he stopped waiting for her to come back (which had taken two months, one week, and five days).<p>

He thought that she wasn't ever going to come back. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past her. Why would she want to? He was rude and cold and unsuccessful in life. There was nothing desirable about him and he was surprised she had taken an interest in him at all.

Still. It hurt how much his missed her. Why had she done this to him? _This is why you shouldn't get attached._

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><p>When he finally saw her again, it was a Thursday morning. He hadn't even seen her come in because of the rush. She waited patiently in line and when she finally got to the front and he saw her, his blood drained out of his face and his jaw went slack. She smiled.<p>

"Angela," he said in surprise.

"Hello, Chase. When is your next break?"

It took him a minute to process what she said. "Um… Not until lunch."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll wait until then." And with that, she walked to one of the tables by the windows and settled down into a chair. He could only stare at her in amazement until the next customer finally got his attention by coughing loudly.

The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace. _Hurry up._ He would frequently look over at her table and she would always be staring right back, a small smile playing across her features.

When it was finally lunch, he nearly sprinted to her table, not even bothering to take his apron off. "Hi," she said when he sat down across from her.

"Hi," he repeated breathlessly.

"How're you doing?"

"Fine. Great," he lied. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him. He gave in. "Not so well."

She looked pleased with this answer. "Same here."

There was a pause where they assessed each other. She was no longer wearing her winter clothes; instead she was clad in a pair of jeans and a light sweater and she looked wonderful. "Why are you… back?" he finally asked nervously.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," she said enticingly, leaning forward. "Do you know that I tried coming here a total of eleven times? Five of those times I got to the door, but I could never open it. Not until today."

His hands were laced together and his knuckles were white. "But we've only talked a few times. I don't understand."

Angela shook her head. "So?"

They were silent for a few minutes as he thought about what she said. "Okay," he answered finally. "What are we going to do?"

Now she smiled. "That's the fun part. I thought we'd start with a movie."

A warm, sticky feeling spread in his chest and he let himself smile. It hurt, but in a good way. "That sounds alright."

"Good," she said. "Tonight, then? I'll meet you in front of the shop at… six, I guess." She stood up and he followed her example.

"Okay," was all he could say.

Turning to leave, she gave him one last smile. "Bye," she said, waving. "I'll see you later, Chase."

He waved back and could feel himself falling.

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><p>AN: I'm sorry for any typos I didn't catch. Thanks for reading.<p> 


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